


i could drink a case of you, darling

by goldenmp3



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Drinking, F/M, Reader-Insert, good ole fashion going home with a stranger fic !!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenmp3/pseuds/goldenmp3
Summary: reader and jake head back to his place after meeting and hitting it off in a l.a. bar. with vinyls & drinks and a bit of the heat of the moment, things are bound to take off.
Relationships: Jake Kiszka/Reader
Kudos: 7





	i could drink a case of you, darling

Warm summer wind whipped (Y/N)’s hair around as she stood on the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard. Street lights and neon bar lights filled the sky and the streets below, bouncing off the ground, reflecting in Jake’s dark eyes as she instinctively leaned against him, hand sliding around his forearm for support. They stood among the throngs of people walking the street, those outside of the bar smoking a cigarette or asking for a light, and those standing outside waiting for a chance to dive behind the packed doors of the 70s-esque bar they just escaped from. It seemed like everyone in Los Angeles was spending their Friday night in the city, just like them.

Jake turned to (Y/N) when she touched the inside of his arm, and he locked the phone in his hand, shoving it back into the pocket of his jacket. “Think the Uber is just around the corner,” he said.

“Should we tell everyone that we’re leaving?” She asked, using her head to nod in the direction of the bar behind them. Just behind the doors, across the room filled with loud voices and music, their friends (and siblings) were inside, drunk and completely unaware that they had escaped their line of sight. “Or should we just let it be a surprise in the next five minutes when one of them goes to the bar and realizes we’re not there?”

Jake licked his lips, and around the corner, he spotted a white car turning down the street - it matched the image in his head from the Uber app. It was their ride. “I think we should let it be a surprise.” He said with a smirk.

She laughed, but didn’t know if it was from the alcohol pumping through her veins or the mental image of both their friend groups drunkenly stumbling around the bar, yelling their names in an attempt to find them when in reality they were whisking across the city, but she laughed anyway.

“They will kill us,”

“Oh absolutely,” Jake said before throwing up a hand, signaling the white car to them and letting them slow down to a stop in front of them.

(Y/N) felt Jake pull away from her touch as he stepped down off the sidewalk and opened the back door to the car, poking his head in and talking briefly to the driver. Under the muffled music from inside, she caught him asking the driver for his name, and a second later Jake stood up and turned to her with a smile.

He took a swift step up to the sidewalk, hands motioning to the car. “Your chariot has arrived,” He was tipsy. So was she.

With a playful eye roll to his cliche line, (Y/N) shouldered her purse and stepped down off the sidewalk to the street, and she slid into the backseat of the car. Scooting in, Jake followed right behind her, their thighs pressed together as the driver sped off, following the directions to the house on his phone. The music in the car was low, just enough to hear what it was, but (Y/N) and Jake weren’t paying attention to anything but each other. She shifted to face him, his hand sliding to touch her knee through the material of her jeans, and they were talking, they were giggling about anything and everything, yet nothing at all.

The orange street lights bounced in and out of the car the further they drove though East Hollywood, and she paused and admired him. Two hours ago they were mere strangers downing shots a table adjacent from each other, an hour ago they were laughing while dancing to Stephen Stills on a hammock-laden patio under string lights as those they came with cheered them on between rounds of beers and cocktails, and she never pictured her night ending by going home with someone.

But she felt it when they talked, when they brushed hands, when they laughed. It felt like being with your best friend. They were two strangers in two different industries, but when they argued over Beatles versus The Rolling Stones before falling into singing whatever came on next on the jukebox, it felt like they had done it all before.

“Oh god it’s almost one a.m.,” (Y/N) cursed under her breath as she glanced away from her cocktail to the watch on her wrist.

Jake swooped in behind her, settling down on the bench to her right. She looked up at him with shining eyes and smiled, but there was a slight tug on her lips. “Got somewhere to be in the morning?”

“No, I’m just supposed to go out tomorrow with some friends.” She looked forward, gaze darting across the room to where both her friend group and Jake’s were ordering standing around a picnic table next to the hammocks. “I might get an Uber and let you all have your fun.” When she reached into the side of her purse for her phone, Jake was quick to deflect her decision.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached out, placing a hand on her bag, and she raised a brow at him. He smiled, cheeks flushed and wisps of hair flying in the wind. She watched him pause as if he was thinking of what to say, then lick his lips before speaking up again. “I don’t want you to get an Uber alone. That’s sketchy.”

(Y/N) smirked. “So what are you thinking?”

“I’ll get an Uber, “he used his free hand to motion to the sky, “and you can come back to ours. I can show you all of those records that we talked about earlier. Maybe even let you borrow one or two.”

“Oh, lucky me,” she grinned, obviously teasing him, and he chuckled. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned him quickly one last time - her brain ticking, determining whether or not going home with a stranger was how she wanted to end her night. And when his soft brown eyes met hers, she was a goner. “You get the Uber,” and Jake let out another chuckle, hand diving to the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

And half an hour later, after battling late traffic of East L.A., the two stumbled out of the backseat of the car and onto the sidewalk of a tiny residential area. With many rushed thank-yous, Jake shut the door and led (Y/N) to a small gate hidden between trimmed bushes, and he punched in a code before they stepped inside.

While it wasn’t necessarily (Y/N)’s first rodeo, she did feel that kick of nerves in her stomach as she followed Jake into the house. Her heart was racing and stomach was full of nerves while he seemed so casual, tossing down his keys and flicking on the lights, heading to the kitchen while asking if she wanted a beer.

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever you have.”

Placing her bag down on the foyer table, she pushed further into the house, her eyes following a path of light from a room off the large living area. Peering inside, out of her own curiosity, she noticed a shelf on the wall full of records, and her feet led her inside. Her eyes drank in the sight of the vinyl’s, the record player sitting in the corner of the room just waiting to be used.

Her eyes scanned the wall, looking at the different colors, the pictures, the fonts, imagining herself listening to them all. “You guys have Joan Baez records?” She beamed, speaking over her shoulder to Jake in the kitchen.

Jake glanced up at her through the doorway, noticing her head craning back, staring up at the top shelf, and he smiled before screwing off the caps of the beers and crossing the distance between them. “I wasn’t joking when I said we grew up listening to literally everything.” He strolled into the room and (Y/N) glanced back with a matching smile, taking a beer from his outstretched arm, and then returning her eyes to the shelf.

“My parents loved Joan Baez, mostly because she was the muse behind so many Dylan songs.” She turned her body towards him, their eyes meeting a second later and she quipped a brow. “Odds on having a Joni Mitchell record?”

Jake’s eyes then darted to the wall. “More likely than you think,” and he stepped over and hooked his hand around the rolling ladder on the wall and slid it a few rows over to them. She watched as he took a step upon the ladder, and then another, reaching at the top shelf. “Which one - _Ladies of The Canyon? Blue? For The Roses?_ ”

She reached out, holding onto the edge of the ladder while humming. “Surprise me,”

Jake clicked his tongue, fingers fiddling with the vinyl before plucking one out. He held it out to her and she took it from his hand - noting the dark and light colors contrasting beautifully. It was _Blue_ , her 1971 album.

While he climbed down the small ladder, (Y/N) crossed the room to the corner where the record player sat next to a small lamp. She flipped on the lamp and flipped on the record player, pulling the record from the sleeve placing it on the turntable, then dropping down the stylus in one swoop. It started with _All I Want_. Joni’s soothing voice filled the room and she turned to Jake with a smile.

“Is that your record?”

He lowered down onto a chair, knees spread as he leaned back. “Think it’s Sam’s. We had so many duplicates of others when we moved in that we eventually just donated them all.” He explained and she gave a nod in response. She had met his brothers back at the bar - the same ones they left with her friends before ditchin. 

Instead of taking the chair across from him, (Y/N) crossed the distance between them and lowered down onto the hardwood floor, placing herself right at his feet. She took a sip of her beer, crossed her legs, letting her shoulder brush his thigh while leaning against the chair. And they sat in silence for a moment - losing themselves in the sound of Joni’s voice, in the tapping of their hands and feet to the beat, in the sway of the melody of each song on that side of the record.

In the midst of _Carey_ , Jake tilted his head to the side and looked down at (Y/N) at his feet. His free hand reached out, touching the skin of her shoulder, her neck, fingers twiddling with her hair. She felt his fingers graze over the back of her neck and she instinctively tilted her head back, and then she glanced over her shoulder to him.

“Are you playing with my hair, Jake?” She teased and he let out a deep chuckle from behind her.

“It was so tempting,” he explained, hand then touching her shoulder, the side of her neck, and she felt her body melt right into putty.

“That’s funny,” she shifted, turning to him.

Jake raised a brow. “Why’s it funny?”

And her eyes went straight to his hair. It was the second thing she noticed about him after his smile. His brown hair was long, hanging down past his shoulders, laying perfectly on the maroon corduroy jacket he was wearing. She lazily rested her cheek on the armrest of the chair, staring up at him with glossy eyes that had his heart racing. “Because I have wanted to play with your hair all night.”

He smiled wide. “Well all you had to do was ask,” and he hastily slid down off the chair to her hip, both laughing while he came crashing down next to her.

Legs tangled with drunken laughs, (Y/N) reached out, guiding her fingers straight through Jake’s long hair. His hair was soft, and they were so close she could smell his cologne on the collar of his shirt, making her head spin even faster. Jake leaned into her hand as she ran her fingers through the strands, finding it so soothing, and he looked at her, causing her to smile warmly at him.

“This what you waited for?”

“Like a dream came true,” she joked and they cracked smiles, “I’m mostly jealous though. Your hair is better than mine.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” he motioned lazily to her leg, “I’m jealous of your boots. Wish I could pull those off as well as you do.”

And she raised her foot up, the dark blue and sparkly boots glimmering in the low lighting of the room, and she shook her foot before placing it back down to the floor with a thump to the rug. “I feel like you would pull them off well. Pair them with any stage outfit and you’ll be Bowie up on that stage.”

Jake leaned his head back against the chair and she shifted her knee over his thigh. She had her cheek resting against her own arm, fingers gently working in the strands of his hair. His eyes focused on her, on her flushed cheeks and red lips, glossy eyes, and he felt a kick of courage in his veins.

“What would you say if I told you that I spent all night fighting the urge to kiss you?”

(Y/N) stilled, her eyes searching his face, but she felt a kick in her chest, the butterflies filling her stomach. The guy she spent the entire night pining over was wanting to kiss her. And she felt like she was in a damn dream - hitting it off with a long-haired rockstar and sitting on their floor, tipsy, listening to vinyl.

“I would say that you are a fool for not doing it.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his hand raise up, the back of his fingers rubbing across the apples of her cheeks, and then his fingers slid to her neck and pressed against the nape of her neck, and she allowed him to pull her closer until their lips met.

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt his mouth press against hers, her body simultaneously busting at the seams while molding against him when she leaned in closer. His lips were soft, his skin was warm, her head was swirling. A second later she pulled back, nose nestling against his, and then she licked her lips before tilting her chin upwards and capturing his lips with hers again.

The second kiss sealed their fate.

Her lips parted when she took a small breath, and then she met his mouth again, over and over again while their bodies propelled them forward. Jake’s hands traveled down her body, touching her back, her hips as her fingers dived deeper into his hair, holding his head. When her lips dragged across his, his hands pressed against her lower back, and then her thigh, gently pulling her into his lap when she raised her knee to slide across his hips. Settling in his lap, their lips reconnected, this time more rushed, sloppy, heated.

A slow and wavering breath left her lips when Jake’s cold hands met her waist - his skilled fingers traveling under the hem of her sweater and pressing against her hot skin, igniting her from the inside out as they kissed and kissed, and kissed again. She parted her lips and his tongue was in her mouth, and she could taste the hoppy beer, the nicotine on his breath from their smoke break before they escaped the bar into the night together.

Jake’s lips broke away from hers and his head lolled back when she pressed her lips against his cheek, his jaw, trailing down his neck. He could feel his heart pound rapidly against his chest as she met the tender skin of his throat, and his fingers instinctively gripped tighter at the skin of her hips. Their lips reconnected for just a second before a noise ripped through the room - it was the typical Apple ringtone.

The noise startled them and they quickly pulled back from each other, looking around to see where the source of the noise was coming from. It was echoing from just outside of the room where they had placed their phones after coming in. When they realized it was their phones, they looked at each other - swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

“Five dollars says it’s yours,” (Y/N) said quickly. 

Jake chuckled, his hands falling from her hips to her thighs, thumb rubbing along the seam. “And five says it’s your friends,”

She quickly pulled her leg from his hip and leaned back, letting him stand to his feet. He quickly jogged out of the room and turned the corner to the foyer table, and a second later, he reappeared in the doorway with a grin while holding onto her phone with an illuminated screen.

“Fuck,” she laughed, holding out a hand. He crossed the space between them and handed her the phone. The annoying ringtone stopped a beat later when she answered, and Jake busied himself with the records, walking over to change the vinyl to one he had in mind.

“Hey,” he heard her answer to her friends. “Are you guys still at the bar?” She asked next.

He plucked a record from the sleeve and twirled it to the A-side, then placed it down, dropping the stylus onto the right spot to let it start playing.

(Y/N) leaned on her hip, watching as Jake changed the records, but still paying attention to the loud sounds of the bar on the other end of the call - the yelling, the music, the cheers followed by clinks of glasses. And then she heard the album Jake put on to fill the space of the room - it was the first track of _Some Girls_ , the 1978 Rolling Stones’ album. Their eyes met and she couldn’t help but laugh - just an hour or so ago they were arguing about the Beatles versus Stones between shots, and now he was making her pay for choosing the Beatles.

 _“Anyways,”_ her friend sang through the speaker, _“are you okay? Are you safe?”_

Jake spun around and pointed at her dramatically while then pretending to play air-guitar and (Y/N) beamed. “Yeah, I’m in good hands, no need to worry,”


End file.
